Kings and Successions
by ArizonaSivy
Summary: What would happen if we took the characters of The Lion King and put them in a human world, in the medieval times of knights and castles? Would that change the events of the story? Read my human version of TLK and find out!
1. Confiteor

**AN: Hi there, Lion King fanatics! I'm back with a new idea of a few chapters' worth of fan fiction. I've seen stories like these earlier, and finally a concept of something similar appeared in my mind too. Namely, a human version of the events from the movies. You know, basically the same characters, only less furry, wearing clothes and living in a medieval kingdom. So will the events be just the same if we change the stage like that? Well, for now lets start and see how the story develops. I call it- 'Kings and Successions', and here's Chapter 1 for ya. Enjoy XD**

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**Chapter 1 - Confiteor**

There was a kingdom once- a land of great fame and renown, known as a place of order, where the just people lived in security and the wrongdoers trembled to even step out of their dens. Though its population was numerous and diverse, crisis and despair seldom appeared within its borders even in times of trials. Some even said that it was because God Himself had chosen that land and protected it for a reason, out of some liking the cause of which were known only to Him. But there was also something very human about the prosperity of the kingdom- something about the line of rulers who sat upon its throne. For generations the kings at Pride Castle have been wise and just men of honor and valor, true leaders who protected the land and the people from dangers both foreign and domestic. Until there was one of that line wearing the crown all men, whether peasant of knight or priest, believed that their lives would be peaceful.

But there came a time when a certain form of unrest arose within the royal chambers. It was a prophecy- an unpleasant system of stars and planets in the sky that the astrologists interpreted as a sign of a change in the fate of the kingdom. The gullible folk caught the news swiftly and started to speak fearfully among themselves, to what the king personally paid no attention and expressed his strong belief that the forces of Heaven would not permit that to happen. It was just before the queen had given birth to a child. The royal pair had just ended their long celebrations after their first son was born- the one they'd named Mufasa, who has already been predestined and chosen to be the successor of the old monarch. The second of the king's children turned out to also be a boy, but since he was not an heir, it was ordained that, after being christened with the name 'Taka', he was left to be raised by his mother and nursemaids.

Years passed, much of the population has forgotten about the alleged curse, and the king committed himself to personally train his older son in all that he would need to know to become his successor. Old Ahadi and prince Mufasa would spend their time jousting, hunting and discussing matters of military tactics and philosophy from the day the boy could stand on his own. In the meantime, prince Taka grew under the watchful eye of queen Uru, a sickly child that he was and of the silent type, yet still apt in the many fields of knowledge. Being fond of learning and attached to his wise and pious mother, he wasn't however bereft of longing for his father's attention. And Ahadi did not indeed ignore him- he let his younger son stay with him at times, especially to discuss issues of warfare or the many secrets of the world. He would also take him to take part in hunts he went on along with Mufasa, his heir. But it was also true that Taka felt neglected- he wasn't initiated in grave state matters. He didn't get half of the attention king Ahadi gave to his older brother. And most of all- the king, with his whole sense of justice and order, just didn't seem to notice anything wrong in how he acted.

When was the moment or the situation when Taka first envied the privileges of the royal heir? It's hard to determine. The fact is that when he grew older and expressing his thoughts to women became uncomfortable, he started seeking company beyond the cold and depressing walls of the castle. Neither his mother's petitions nor his father's warnings could turn him from that. The courtiers saw him become almost an alien to his own family, and the royal pair had failed again and again to regain their younger son. Mufasa was watching this with resentment, but himself too preoccupied with his duties, he took no action. At that time Taka would spend whole days away from home causing the queen to tremble with anxiety, but Ahadi considered that if the youth really wished to play near the wasps' nest of the big city, maybe getting stung would teach him something. But nothing like that happened. After some months Taka returned, mysterious and silent as ever, yet not showing as if he didn't feel a part of the royal family anymore. He even helped his father and Mufasa in sorting out some uproar that appeared among the ever-greedy and quarrelsome merchants of the capital. Seeing that the matter was close to resolve in bloodshed and yet willing to test his future successor, king Ahadi sent both of his sons to negotiate with the leaders of the merchant guilds. Taka, malevolent to the idea, considered that his father intended to abandon him once again, but the king's mind was made up and he sent his sons alone.

Though Mufasa could not understand the reasons of his brother's anger with the king, still he was quite happy to have him by his side, as the argument between the guilds considered taxes and monetary issues that Taka's assistance and wit might have help to solve. The meeting was to take place in a large dining room in one of the town's bigger tap-houses - a place unfamiliar to the older prince. The more was he astonished to see his brother greeting the owner as if he was his well-known friend... They entered the hall filled with grumpy-faced shop-owners and dealers that were about to start fighting each other with their stools- the presence of the king's sons made them soothe only a bit. Nevertheless, they sat down and started to dispute. Mufasa was having a hard time controlling the situation and calming everybody down by himself, especially that Taka did nothing but sit silently, grasping his mug with a strange smirk.

The largest problem was a particularly infuriated guild leader, a man of huge posture and the stubbornness of an ox. The dealer would not relent by a single step, and upon his decision laid the peaceful resolution of the whole, long quarrel. The merchant's acts were mostly unlawful, as he managed to seize most of the town's market for himself and his consorts by means of fraud, but Mufasa had neither the proof nor the possibility to force him to consent. That could mean only one thing- that the other guilds would start a war against him, causing many deaths and many innocent people to suffer. If that really happened, the king's wrath would be untamable- he would punish both the merchants and his sons for their failure. When the uproar was becoming more and more violent, Mufasa felt that he is also starting to lose his nerve- he was almost about to call for the town guards when, unexpectedly, his brother finished drinking his ale, smacked the mug against the table-top and rose, showing everyone to silence. At first the older brother felt strongly relieved- did Taka have some strange plan to solve the whole situation in the last moment? When he started to speak, all eyes were upon him- and his proposition was blunt and simple. He addressed the bear-like merchant leader, knowing him to be a man of arrogance. The prince proposed a bet- that the merchant could keep his position unchanged in the case he won, but that he would have to step down immediately after losing. The guild members' eyes went wide when they saw how well does this young nobleman know the laws that rule the streets... So the guild leader expressed being interested and asked what the wager would be. Then Taka grinned, combed back his long, pitch-black hair and gave an answers that astounded everyone present, especially his brother.

That the merchant would have to defeat Mufasa in a sword fight.

After the gasps and screams of shock silenced down, seeing that in this case a normally punishable-by-death act would go unpunished and make him famous, the guild leader agreed with a wicked smile. The king's heir couldn't even move at first, unable to understand how his brother could even think of such a thing- but before long he had to draw his sword as the giant opponent was already charging at him wielding his chin-high claymore. In the meantime, Taka used the commotion to make a swift disappearance from the hall.

Mufasa was no rookie swordsman and he managed to dodge the first blows of his foe with ease, but the enraged man's strength was so overpowering that a while later he just had to save himself with fleeing from him. The other merchants either ran away or observed the whole scene from corners of the dining room, giving the two fighting men an opportunity to knock down stools and tables, break jugs and clay mugs, trample on flower garlands and bits of food... Mufasa knew that the only chance he had was to tire his enemy in order to seize the advantage over him. But the Goliath-merchant seemed to never tire at all- again and again he would pursue him from one end of the room to the other, knocking down everything and everyone who stood in his way. Blades clashed another time and Mufasa found himself in a dead end. Negotiation would be futile. He had to find a way to protect the honor of his name and the kingdom- and so he chose the easiest option of setting a trap. He noticed that the merchant had damaged one of the tables with the blow of his sword- so the prince made a quick leap missing the deadly blade by an inch and made his way on top of it. The giant turned around and ran in pursuit with a frantic roar, also standing on top of the table. But then Mufasa jumped down and with a forceful kick knocked off one of the legs of the high dining piece of furniture. Naturally, the table collapsed... and the staggered strong man along with it.

Falling down in a limp heap, he hit his head over one of the wooden columns of the room and seemingly lost his consciousness. Mufasa stood over the merchant, only catching his breath at first, but then he raised his eyes on the rest of the gathered dealers with serious anger. He was about to declare his victory when... the giant sprung to his feat and screaming horribly, once again swung his overgrown blade. Mufasa barely dodged the attack, but his revived opponent was now so bewildered that the princre estimated it would be best to make a run for it- so he turned around, opened the door of the dining room and vanished behind it. Not wasting much time to think, the head merchant ran behind him- but when he opened the door he saw no one at the bar but an astonished Taka who has just accidentally drenched himself with another pint of beer. Considering it doesn't really matter which one of the king's sons he would defeat, the man attacked the unprepared younger sibling.

When Mufasa came back to the taproom with a bunch of armed guards, he almost died of fear. What he encountered was a totally devastated main hall in which upon a pile of broken junk there laid his brother, his face covered in blood, with a muscular merchant about to finish him off. The older prince ordered him to stop and that if he dared to drop his blade one more time, he would undoubtedly be killed. Seeing that he had no chance with the royal guard, the man finally relented.

Taka was alive, but he'd suffered a serious injury- if he hadn't moved his head, the attacker would probably split it in two. That did not happen, but still the blade left a large scar that disfigured his left eye. The brothers returned to the castle, and after such a resolution even Mufasa feared to stand in front of the king. He still couldn't understand his brother's behavior. Naturally, at first their father was furious- he wanted the head merchant dead and Taka put in prison. Fortunately, the young prince was unconscious and could not hear that. The desperate queen Uru begged her husband to let go of his anger- that now the most important thing was for her younger son to regain his health. Deeply troubled, the king called for his most trusted adviser- for an old, educated abbot whose name was Rafiki. The monk, himself very concerned, also said that it would be better to wait until the prince regains his senses and the whole situation calms down a little. He promised to pray for the royal son's health and that he would send the best doctors known to him to treat his ugly wound.

A few days later Taka woke up. Everyone around could see that both what had happened, and the scar on his face that reminded him of it, made him feel extremely ashamed of himself. It was fortunate that in the meantime the king along with Mufasa were able to solve the merchant problem, as the guild leader, spending a day or two in the pleasant circumstances of the royal dungeon, repented strongly and promised to return what he had unlawfully taken only not to be punished in a more dreadful way. After hearing what had happened, Ahadi decided that the other guilds would get an equal share. As for his sons' attacker, since he had been provoked, he was not to be executed- only left in prison for an 'unspecified' period of time, just for the sake of admonition. So when the young prince finally stood in front of his father, he couldn't look him in the eyes. Turning his wounded face away, barely mouthing the words, he explained that he became jealous of the attention Mufasa was getting from the king. This was why he set up the duel on purpose- in order to make his brother look bad, and maybe make his father redirect his attention towards him. Ahadi did not feel satisfied with such an apology, but yielding to the queen's request, he accepted it. Taka surprised the king expressing his thoughts in such a way. After all, Mufasa was to be his heir and, naturally, required more of the king's time to learn all the things about ruling a kingdom. His younger son did not need that. Cold and convinced of the righteousness of such doing, he said to him that, of course, he did love both of his sons the same.

Taka did not answer. Instead, in front of the whole court, he expressed his will as to not be called by his birth name anymore. From now on he wished to be called _Macula_, or 'Scar'- this way he would remember his fault forever, what would help him in avoiding such errors in the future. The gathered people agreed and after some time, despite that the wound really resolved in a nasty scar that wouldn't fully heal, the matter was not spoken of again. Only Rafiki, the king's adviser, was still somewhat concerned- he told Ahadi that it might be wise to keep a watchful eye on the young prince and maybe discuss with him the reasons of his envy, but the king had other things in his mind and instead, because he believed that the abbot's prayers helped 'Scar' to recover, he promoted the old monk to the position of archbishop.

In the following months Scar returned to his normal way of life, only this time he became even more silent and distanced from his court and his family. During the rare occasions when he appeared at Pride Castle queen Uru would ask him why was it so, but the prince only gave her evasive answers. The thing that was giving her at least some hope was that he didn't really seem depressed or displeased with his closest ones. He would show up for big events that required the presence of the whole royal family and did not act hostile neither towards his brother nor the king. Even though the courtiers were talking strange things concerning what exactly was the prince doing whenever he was not in the castle, Uru had full confidence that her son was wise enough to not get himself into any new trouble. But then there came a time when Scar simply vanished and did not give a single sign of existence for a couple of days. The king was almost about to send his people to search for him when suddenly a messenger came with an announcement that the young prince wants to meet with the whole family to inform them of something important. The king and queen were quite surprised with that, and they could only guess what was it that Scar wanted to tell them.

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The hour was late and Ahadi was starting to lose his patience. He'd already ordered the servants twice to throw more wood into the fireplace in the throne room, and even though he was continuing to cover himself more and more with his thick cape, he still felt cold and uncomfortable. Him, Uru and Mufasa have been waiting for Scar's arrival for hours now and the weight of the crown was slowly giving him an aching neck. Reluctantly reaching with his ring-incrusted hand to take a grape from the golden bowl held by a servant, he changed his position upon his magnificent throne, looking around the room. Mufasa was still standing against the wall with his hands crossed, seemingly admiring the work that the weaver put into creating the large tapestry with their dynasty's coat of arms- two struggling black lions. But the older prince's thoughts were really far from the throne room- they were away in the chambers of lady Sarabi, as he imagined her slowly stroking the long, red hair on his head... Uru on the other hand sat soundlessly by the spindle, busy with her tailoring. The silence was unbearable. Annoyed with it to the brim, the king threw the grape he held at Mufasa, hitting his large arm and waking him from his visions. The prince turned towards his father and smiled.

-'Are you already agitated, father? One might think that you've grown less long-suffering during the years!'

But Ahadi hardly smiled back, lifting himself somewhat and fixing the cushion on which he sat.

-'Oh don't bother me with your jokes, Mufasa- I'm not in the mood. Better tell me where your brother is. He should know that I have preciously little time to waste to sit around doing nothing but awaiting his arrival and pondering over why did he ask us to assemble here today'.

-'He _does_ know that, father…' – the prince whispered so that the king would not hear him, redirecting his eyes towards the arras.

-'What is it? You know I can't hear you when you mumble like that' - Ahadi rose from the throne in an aggravated manner and made a few steps along the room to stretch his aching old bones, sweeping the floor with his long mantle at the same time. - 'What reason could Scar have to call us up like this? He hadn't really been looking as if he longed for our company lately... Do you have any idea?'

Mufasa turned around again, his brown eyes expressing empty unawareness.

-'No, I'm afraid I know just as little. I haven't spoken with him in more than a week. He'd been away for most of that time and before that I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary.'

-'Uh, out of the ordinary...' - the king repeated with a sigh. - 'That child was always willingly out of the ordinary!' - he turned to see if Uru would react to his words in any way, but she didn't even lift her eyes from her sewing so Ahadi made his way back to the throne.

As he was ascending the steps, however, a set of footsteps could be heard from behind the door, and then a strong knocking. Mufasa moved curiously.

-'Enter!' - ordered the king in the strong, exclaiming way he was used to after he sat down in the midst of his cushions.

The gates opened with a screech and in the middle of the room stood a figure dressed in fancy sky-blue clothing. At first it was impossible to see his face due to the profound bow he performed in front of the royal family, but when he stretched back up Mufasa could see that it was Zazu, their newly-hired omnipresent majordomo.

-'Sire!' - he squawked like some desert bird. - 'I'm happy to inform you that your son, prince Taka... I-I mean, _Scar_, is here and wishes to...'

-'Yes, I am happy also. Send him in, Zazu' - Ahadi dismissed him with a wave of a hand.

-'Yes my liege!' - the courtier bowed a second time and left.

The members of the royal family looked at each other. Even Uru raised her hazel eyes and put down her distaff expressing anticipation to finally see her younger son.

The doors opened again and Scar slowly entered the throne room. To everyone's surprise he was dressed in formal garments, was clean and had his pointy black beard carefully trimmed. He wouldn't usually look very much like a prince when he came back from town so everyone could see that he was carrying something important. His sight made the queen smile and Mufasa moved to stand at the right hand of the king. Scar's face had no distinguishable emotion covering it- he was neither sad nor happy. For a moment he just stood in front of his father without a word, neither one of them proceeding to any form of formal greeting prescribed in the royal protocol- only two pairs of green eyes curiously gazing into each other. The scar has changed Taka's face so much that Ahadi noticed he could no longer read what his son was thinking about from his face- and for a monarch and a father that was somewhat disorienting. When the prince spoke, his words were so swift that the last one of them finished before the first one resounded among the high stone walls of the castle chamber. But it was not the length of the announcement that made everyone stand in amazement- it was its content.

-'Father, mother. I come to inform you that after months of meditation I have decided what to do with my life. That is, I have chose to study theology and to follow the path of a clergyman.'

Scar spoke the words with a sure and confident voice. He wasn't joking. Mufasa almost lost his breath and quickly gazed towards their mother- Uru, a woman of deep faith and devotion, was visibly and sincerely happy. The king's face did not change much, but the time he waited before asking the first question indicated that he was quite surprised himself.

-'Why?' - Ahadi inquired bluntly.

-'Because I wish to pursue a more... _spiritual _way of life than the one I have walked until now.'

His brother could hardly believe it. Was Scar really confessing to have converted? After all those rumors that spread among the noblety that when in town he usually spent his time in the company of thieves and whores? That may have been. But then again, Mufasa knew his brother too well to consider the case to be as easy as that. _You want to be a bishop, brother... _- he thought, conscious of the privileges a high ecclesiastical position could provide the ones who craved for wordly power. But then again- one could never know. The Lord worked in mysterious ways.

The king's wrinkled face frowned with the expression of intensive thinking. But, actually, one couldn't say that he was looking dissatisfied.

-'Hm, interesting. You surprise us remarkably, my son! Tell me- has the archbishop advised you such a vocation, by chance?'

Taka cursed internally at the mention of the old abbot Rafiki, but managed not to show anything since the conversation was going so well.

-'No, father. It is purely the result of my own resolution.'

Suddenly, the king rose and walked down from the top of his throne to encounter Scar directly.

-'So do you wish to join a monastery?' - he asked. - 'Do you want to become a monk?'

-'No. I was thinking more of studying in the cathedral college.'

-'Even better! The theological faculty is of a high standard there- I personally made sure of that. And you studying there will only raise that standard, I'm sure!'

Ahadi smiled- and that was one of the few times the younger prince remembered to have done anything that had made his father happy. He remembered that smile carefully as in his mind he thought he knew what it meant- that the troublesome, non-succeeding son would finally be disposed of and cause no more problems. _Ah, father- you are ignorant of the mistake you commit_ - thought the prince.

-'Just remember-' - said Ahadi, putting his hand of Scar's shoulder. - 'Just remember to speak with the archbishop. He is a man of knowledge and sainthood. You will do well to assume this man as your teacher and leader in clerical life. Look now! How you've made your mother joyful! How happy she is to have given one of her sons to the state, and the other one to God! Go, Taka. Embrace her. Let her wait no longer!'

And this is what the prince did. The queen held him almost with tears in her eyes- and that made Scar feel that even this humiliating confession was worth it.

-'Are you happy, mother?' - asked the prince with a smile when she finally released him.

-'Oh, am I ever! Taka, you made me more proud today than the mothers of champions and conquerors have ever been!'

And that was it. No more words were said. The king would announce the news to his court and soon he would move to the cathedral college and become surrounded by books and men in gowns. But that would be only temporary. As he walked away from the throne room with a mysterious smile on his face, prince Scar was becoming more sure with every step that his _real_ dream would come true soon enough.

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**AN: So this is what happens when I implant the characters from the Lion King into a human world. It's basically 'The tale of two brothers' + some of my own imagination. Do you like this idea? Is it interesting? Is it new? Is it funny? Doesn't it sound stupid at any point? Please, do express your thoughts- every single review will be very appreciated.**

**So is Scar really going to be a priest, as weird as it sounds? Well, don't you think he fits perfectly to the role of a corrupted clergyman? We will see how will the story move on. Oh, and I will try as hard as I can not to make the whole story solely about him...**

**As for the title of the chapter, it's Latin for 'I confess'. Since this story takes place in medieval Europe, I'm going to be using Latin from time to time. Et etiam quia lingua mea amantissima est XD**

**See you later, fanatics! And remember- the more you encourage me, the faster I respond.  
**


	2. Tonsura

**Chapter 2 – Tonsura**

The two men sat in front of each other in one of the large rooms within Pride Castle in silence. The younger one, a nobleman in his mid-twenties, had a sour expression on his face framed with black waves of hair that seemed to resemble his dark mood and that he did not enjoy the company of the other one. The second man however was smiling, and his smile was probably the only better-looking feature of his wrinkled face of a significantly old monk. He still had his worn-out, poor habit on, and the golden pectoral cross on his neck fit it like a flower would fit a fur coat. The archbishop was playing with his long, snow-white beard, stroking it with his bony fingers and watching the young prince as if he was admiring him. From behind his broken teeth a high-pitch laughter resounded, and if he hadn't spoken first, Scar would undoubtedly order the old priest to shut up.

-'Hee-hee… Why do yoo not smile, my son?' – Rafiki said in his strange, foreign accent. – 'Aren'choo appy wit de joy yoo ave caused to de king and yer moder?'

Scar lifted his narrowed greed eyes at him and gazed with distrust for a few seconds before answering.

-'I am not your son' – he replied.

-'Ha! Sure ting, not _technically_! Bot nondeless I ave been given de shepherd's staff over 'ere, as weird as it may be… And so I am to care for oders, including _yoo_!' – the bishop pointed at the prince with a crosier which he was indeed in his possession. – 'Ha-ha, don' werry, prince. Yoo'll be jost fine as a membah of de clergy.'

-'Yes, of that I'm sure…'

Scar was trying not to show his disrespect for the archbishop openly as he knew that his father sent him to evaluate if his intentions were indeed pure. So he acted politely like he had to, but still considered that the fifty-or-so years that Rafiki spent in the monastery totally made him lose his mind.

-'So tell me' – said the monk, grabbing an apple from the table with astonishing swiftness, taking a large bite out of it what made the juice run down his beard. – 'Tell me, son- how dijoo evah tink o' pursuin' de way of de Spirit? From what I eard, unill recently you were not exactly a cherch-goah…'

Scar put his hands on the table and moved closer to Rafiki, smiling mysteriously.

-'Our Lord works in mysterious ways. You yourself are two years younger than rock but still you haven't lived in a monastery since the day you were born, haven't you, archbishop? And more than that- if I came to you last spring and told you that before the snows melt that white head of your is going to be adorned with a mitre, would you not be as stunned as you were when my father told you that I wish to become a cleric?'

The old man waved his head with understanding, leading out a long hum.

-'Aye, dat is true. Well, don' suppose yoo'll ave any troble wit ejucation an' such. How's yer Latin?'

-'Satis bene. Noli timere, senex.'

-'O good! And yer Greek?'

-'Horos ho idios ho Homeros.'

-'Dat's de spirit! And ave yoo, by chance, studied any Hebrew?'

-' Ken, ani medaber ketzat ivrit' – responded the prince once again with a perfect accent, proud that he could show off in front of the silly churchman.

-'Fine! Fine! Yer mind is a sponge, jost like yer fader's! Only remembah dis- de Holy One is found not in books, bot in de heart!'

-'I'll remember, bishop. Now, is there anything else you want to ask me?'

-'Yes! One more ting!' – Rafiki rose and walked over to him leaning on his staff. – 'I need to know if yoo can sacrifice somtin' dat is precious to yoo. Widout dat no-one can become a cleric.'

Frowning with displeasure, Scar moved away from the monk who, for some reason, was pointing at his head.

-'What might that be?' – he asked unsteadily.

-'Yer air!'

-'My _what_?'

-'Yor _air_, child! De ting yoo take care of so meticulously. He-he, don' worry tho. I ain't goin' to take de whole lot of it. Jost eh little bit.'

-'You mean… the rite of tonsure?' – inquired the prince, quite concerned about what might the monk actually want with his 'hair' – 'I can barely understand your way of speaking, bishop…'

-'Yes, I mean yer tonsure. If yer up fer de idea, we could set up de ceremony of yer reception in the ranks of de clergy within de month.'

_At last he's talking reasonably_… - Scar breathed with relief.

-'Then do that' – said the prince as he rose from his chair – 'Anything else?'

-'Ya.'

-'What is it, then?' – he growled with impatience.

-'Pray.'

The young man smiled.

-'Surely. And you too, archbishop. Peace be with you.'

-'An wit' yer spirit.'

Scar left and Rafiki went back to sit in the chair. After he finished eating his tasty apple, still with his mouth full, he spoke in a loud voice although seemingly being left alone in the room.

-'Yoo can come out, yor eyeness! I'm done wit de yong man. Now we can speak in private.'

For a moment nothing happened, but then, barely making a sound, the king entered the room from an adjacent chamber. It looked like the monk was far less frail in terms of his senses than his age might indicate- he was already pointing at Ahadi with his crosier, grinning.

-'So? Quit laughing, archbishop, and tell me what you think!' – the king didn't want to act as if he felt caught red-handed.

-'I tink yoo should know better than to eavesdrop on on yer own boy…' – Rafiki responded jokingly, but Ahadi still acted outraged.

-'Eavesdrop…? Why, I never! Do you take me for a servant maid? I waited for you to be done with Scar. I did not hear a single word.'

-'Whoa, calm down now, I know yoo aven't. Odawise yoo wouldn't ask.'

-'I certainly wouldn't.'

-'Okay.' – the bishop placed his staff against the wall. – 'So, wan'to ear my toughts on dis, right? Well, yoo know, de boy has 'is issues…'

-'But can he become a clergyman?'

-'Personally, I don' tink Aristotelian philosophy or Thomistic tee-ology wood be a problem to 'im…'

-'You understand that's not what I'm asking!'

-'No rush, sire! Yoo should take life easiah, I'm getting' to it! In terms of de prince, I see no impediments. At least not ones dat _can_ be seen…'

-'And what about those that _can't_ be seen?'

-'Well yoo tell me.'

-'Tell you _what_?'

-'Ee is yer son, after all. If yoo are concerned, dat means yoo already know de answer yaself.'

Ahadi wondered. On one hand, he really wanted his younger son to become a priest- that would solve a lot of problems with which he had to put up for years. But there was one thing that continually made him unsure.

-'Tell me, Rafiki. Should I believe in prophecies?'

The old bishop frowned.

-'Wot do yoo mean? Prophecies are delicate mattah. De most important ting is from who did it really come from- a true-blue prophet or a drunken ol' washwoman?'

The king turned around and looked outside of the window, but didn't really focus his sight on anything specific. His voice was dismal and gloomy.

-'The ones that delivered it to me told me it's written in the stars. That it hangs over my house like a curse. And… that it's not going to happen during my reign. Only later.'

The until-recently jolly old monk's face now expressed deep concern. He made a few steps and put his hand on the king's shoulder.

-'When did dis appen, Ahadi?'

The man sighed.

-'Right after Taka was born, I'm afraid.'

-'Hmf!' – Rafiki snorted with irritation what seemed very unnatural for him. – 'Star-gazin' fortune tellahs! Dey're all de same! Notin' bot lies, dat's all dey can construct! Yoo best not give ear to de stars, sire, but to de One who rules dem and puts dem in deir orbits!'

-'Oh, I know that. I just hope that He'll be more in favor of our cause than the stars…' – Ahadi turned around for the window and shifted his voice to a more serious one. – 'So what you are trying to say is that my son will be accepted as a member of the clergy?'

-'Aye, ee is indeed, if yoo will permit it.'

-'And when will that happen?'

-'Before de end of de mont. As long as yoo will…'

Ahadi silenced and it looked as if he was considering something intensively. Or perhaps he was praying? Nevertheless, after a minute or so he addressed the archbishop again, sounding convinced and confident.

-'So be it. May the tomes of theologians teach him to walk a right path. And… Rafiki?'

-'Yes, my lord?' – answered the old monk looking upon his trusted friend with true affection.

-'Pray for him' – uttered the king shortly, turned around and walked out of the room.

-'Tsk-tsk!' – the bishop shook his head after he was left alone. – 'Not good fer yoo, king. Now I undastand. You _fear_ Scar, Ahadi- dat is de ting ere! Maybe if you ad not feared 'im before, it would be different… Now all is in de ands of God. And de boy imself, too…'

He sat down and started looking for his rosary.

* * *

**AN: Not often does Scar meet Rafiki, even in fan fiction, does he? So will the crazy old archbishop be wise enough to see the corruption in him before he makes the prince a priest? Will Ahadi, Mufasa or anyone prevent the horror of the mysterious prophecy? We will find out soon...**

**Thank you for the comments. I actually have some sources that influence this story to some extent (the prose of Andrew Sapkowski) but some other interesting themes might also appear. Feel free to express your opinion!**


	3. Malefica

**Chapter 3 – Malefica**

The rain was pouring and there was hardly anyone on the streets. The robed figure had to pay special attention not to step in the ankle-deep puddles or even streams of muddy water filled with various town filth that covered the tight passages between the massive stone houses. He was in a hurry- his leather cloak provided only a limited level of protection and he was already feeling the cold wet sensation on his back. And furthermore, even despite the tempest, in this neighborhood everything reeked so strongly of urine and whatever dirty stuff the inhabitants were throwing out of their windows, that he almost instinctively hastened his steps.

The man knew the way very well as he'd been walking here numerous times. Only two more turns around the corner, and there it was- the large, yet inconspicuous house with a peculiar sculpture of a big-breasted woman above the entrance- the mark that signified a brothel. The wanderer halted in front of the door and knocked three times with the iron rapper. After a minute he was greeted by a happy grin of one of the 'attendants' with thick make-up on her face who recognized him immediately despite his hood.

-'Oh, it's you!' – said the girl enthusiastically. – 'Come right in. You must be soaking wet…'

The man entered and stepped into the delightful warmth of the well-kept building, but being asked to remove his cloak, he refused.

-'No, thank you Malaya. I will not have any wine today, either. You can go take care of your own business and tell the rest of the girls the same.'

The woman nodded with understanding and smiled.

-'As you wish, sir. Not much happening today actually, mostly due to the weather. Oh, and… _she_'s waiting for you upstairs, I presume.'

-'Is her mother here?'

Malaya shook her pretty blonde head.

-'No, I'm afraid lady Liguria is away and will not be back until late at night.'

-'That's good. I will see you later, Malaya.'

The young courtesan left with a flap of her long eyelashes and the visitor made his way up the stairs to the top flood. The banister was decorated with red ribbons and the whole place smelled of roses. Upon the walls there hung in golden frames remarkably well-drawn sketches of women in very 'original' positions, but the man did not come here to look at them. As usual, he fixed his long black hair standing in front of the door at the end of the corridor, took a deep breath and knocked.

-'Come in!' – a familiar voice answered from the other side.

Not waiting any longer, the cloaked figure entered the room that was lit with red candles and filled with the smell of many flowers. Inside, in front of a big ornate mirror, there sat a slim woman wearing a crimson dress, or rather a girl barely in the beginning of adulthood. She was just finishing combing her long, straight hair that was pale at the ends almost to the point of a beige color, but got darker towards the top of her head to form a brown line around the parting above her forehead. She looked… captivating.

The woman put the brush on a table beside what seemed to be a real human skull and turned around. The sight of the man made her smile joyfully.

-'Well now, look at you… Careful, you'll ruin the carpets, and they're expensive ones. Take your clothes off!'

A wide grin appeared on the scarred face of the robed visitor.

-'You're not being very romantic, Zira. Aren't you even going to pour me a glass of wine first?'

The girl laughed impatiently and grabbed the drenched edge of his cloak.

-'Oh, quit fooling around! Let me see! I'm dying to find out how this new version of you looks like!'

-'Well, if you insist…'

He untied the thong and with a single motion threw down his soaking coat to the floor. The girl gasped. But it wasn't because all the water fell on her expensive carpets- no, it was because her close friend, Scar, prince at Pride Castle, stood now in front of her… wearing the long, black gown of a clergyman. And looking outrageously good in it, too.

-'My word… So it is true!' – she gazed in astonishment, what made Scar really happy of the effect he caused. – 'You weren't joking that you were going to become a cleric! Aren't you afraid that coming here in such an outfit might cause a scandal?'

-'Do I look scared? You think I can't make up a proper excuse?'

-'Hm, I guess you probably have, already. Never mind then. You've got to tell me all about what happened- when was the ceremony?'

-'It took place on Saturday' – he answered sitting down and fastening one of the many black buttons that happened to be undone. – 'You should have seen it- the cathedral was full. And the faces of my family- they all looked like they were posing for a picture, kneeling in their royal stalls…'

-'I don't really go to cathedrals' – the girl suddenly grabbed his thick, shoulder-long long hair. – 'Shouldn't they cut something like a nest on top of your head?'

The prince held her hand and shook his head.

-'Fortunately, the archbishop didn't cut more than he should. Otherwise, I would have his arm cut off.'

-'Would you now?' – she bared her teeth in another despicable grin.

-'Yes, I would.'

-'Puh! You're joking. He is your boss now.'

-'I have no boss. You know that.'

The procuress' daughter just snorted silently and then made a few steps down the room.

-'So do you still want a glass of wine, _father_?'

-'Don't call me that! I'm not a priest!' – he erupted angrily, making her laugh again. – 'No, I lost my appetite for wine. Instead, you might want to show me a different type of beverage. Remember what we spoke of last time?'

-'Ah! You mean my _other_ decoction!' – Zira came up to a large cabinet with many shelves.

Scar always considered it the most disgusting thing within that girlishly decorated chamber. It was a strange collection of items possession of which could lead one to the gallows, especially a woman- it was a potion manufactory, something one might call a witch's workshop. It had it all, from the tails of rodents and narcissus flowers gathered under the light of the full moon to jars filled with conserved animal guts and ash from human fetuses. Skilled as she was in using all of those monstrosities, the woman in red started searching, picking certain ingredients and putting them aside.

-'Tell me, Zira' – Scar asked, watching her with disgust on his face. – 'Can't one cultivate witchcraft without all of these stinking dead parts and other junk?'

Suddenly, she turned around and threw a dead rat at him which he barely caught.

-'Yes' – she said – 'But not as effectively!'

-'Watch it, girl! You're going to get my cassock dirty!'

-'Hm-hm, if you stay here any longer, you're going to stain more than just that gown of yours!'

-'I certainly hope so.'

Scar took a chair and sat at the table upon which Zira was putting new flasks and boxes that contained God knows what. Then he observed her as she got to work. Reciting arcane incantation is a half-voice, almost hypnotizing him as she did so, she threw the ingredients in a mortar and crushed them one by one. The prince had no idea what exactly was she using, but after an hour or so she put the powder in a small bottle and handed it to him.

-'Take this' – she said. – 'It should be exactly what you need. Put a pinch of it in a fluid, it will dissolve without a trace. Use it once a day, _every _day.'

Scar grabbed the flaks with visible excitement.

-'How long will it take?' – he asked. The girl shrugged.

-'I don't know, exactly. Maybe a month, maybe more. You will need to be patient if you want no suspicion to appear. The cassock you wear is one thing. The other is that this must look like a natural illness. And that will happen only when you stick to the proper dosage.'

The man gazed at the bottle in his hand, thinking deeply. His hands were shaking. Zira knew that it was the first time he would use such a special drug, and it kind of reminded her of the first time her mother taught herself how to make such things.

-'And what if I put it all in one chalice of wine?' – Scar asked, breathing deeply. – 'What if I finish this in just one, swift act?'

The woman sighed, sat in front of him and held his face in her hands. She liked him, but knew that his rather impulsive nature, similar to her own, sometimes needed to be cooled off a bit.

-'If you put the content of that bottle to a single cup of wine at once, the one who drinks it will die before he can utter his own name. More than that- his face will turn purple and twist so horribly, that others will be searching for a poisoner that same day. And then, my dear cleric, even that tonsure of yours might not save you from being drawn and quartered. We need to act with caution- remember that.'

A smiled appeared on the prince's face indicating that he was only joking. Zira ruffled his hair.

-'Naughty boy.'

-'But I'm older than you.'

-'That doesn't change anything!'

Scar hid the bottle in the crease of his cassock with an arrogant snort and rose.

-'So what's new?' – he inquired.

-'Oh, you know. Not much. Living in a brothel is far more dull than one might think. You better tell me if you know any interesting gossip from the corridors of Pride Castle. I bet the life of the nobility has more to it than just your recent story…' – she said touching the first button of his gown and counting them, moving her fingers down his chest.

-'Well, I…' – started the prince, but then he hesitated. When he spoke again his voice was far more serious. – 'I actually have other news for you, Zira.'

-'What is that?'

He suddenly grabbed her by the wrist as she was already touching the buttons on the height of his hips.

-'My brother's getting married' – he uttered looking her in the eyes.

-'What?' – screeched the girl with shock. – '_Now_? With who?'

-'Why, with lady Sarabi, of course. They were betrothed since both of them were infants. Just another stupid tradition…'

-'_Lady Sarabi_? Who's she?'

-'A courtier, no one special. Daughter of some baron or duke… I can't remember.'

-'Well, you look far more concerned that your words might indicate. Why is that?'

-'Oh, you think I'm jealous, don't you? And that makes _you_ jealous, doesn't it?'

She didn't respond, but he knew the answer. Laughing at her truly woman-like reaction, he stood in front of her. He was more than a foot taller than his poison-mixing lady friend, yet she still looked at him with a spark of cheek in her brown eyes. He considered it was time to teach her a lesson- this was why he suddenly grabbed her, pressed against himself and spun a few pirouettes making her laugh like a drunkard before he threw her on the bed limply.

-'Oho, what are you doing?' – Zira asked when she finally overcame her laughter and broke free from under the sheets that covered her.

-'I'm trying to show you why I am concerned!' – Scar lifted his cloak from the floor. – 'My brother's upcoming wedding means that I will have to hurry. Just before the event itself the whole Castle will be far too busy for me to take any suspicious actions… Which means I need to begin as soon as possible.'

Saying that, he started putting on his coat. Zira cried with disappointment.

-'Ooh, I thought you were going to stay for longer!' – she wined, collapsing on the bed. The prince was already at the door.

-'Don't worry' – he threw her a good-bye grin. – 'I'll be back. Before that, keep your ears open for good news, my poisonous friend!'

* * *

**AN: So you put Scar in a human world and this is what you get- a corrupt cleric who spends his time with strumpets and witches. I put Zira early in the story- I like the idea that she was some kind of an inspiration for Scar's descent towards evil. And she kind of suits the character of a witch, doesn't she? So what mayhem are the two evil companions planning to introduce in this important time for the kingdom? If it's not obvious yet, you're gonna find out soon.**


	4. Requiem

**Chapter 4 – Requiem**

The kingdom was engulfed in a wave of rejoicing when the people found out about the royal heir's upcoming wedding. Not only because it formed a very promising political alliance. Everyone was happy as such a celebration was usually connected with big festivities that included eating, drinking and partying on many different ways, either tolerated or prohibited by the Church. Cause when the king was happy, everyone was happy.

On the morning of the wedding the royal family, the nobility and all prominent townspeople, dressed up in fairytale outfits, gathered in the cathedral with the common folk waiting outside in a huge crowd. Prince Mufasa and princess Sarabi both looked simply dreamy in their shiny regal jewels and best formal attire. Archbishop Rafiki was the main celebrant and everything turned out perfect. After the kiss, the people's three cheers and the wishes, the feast could begin. King Ahadi did not spare the gold for his beloved successor and his daughter-in-law – the dining hall had the best minstrels he could bring along with the most exquisite food and drinks.

The party stretched late into the evening and everybody was in a great mood (mostly because of the mead) when the atmosphere became somewhat disturbed. It happened when the old king suddenly started experiencing an intensive stomach ache. Most of the partying courtiers considered that to be a repercussion of over-eating, and few were sober enough to see that the situation was serious. Ahadi was in so much pain that he lost his consciousness- to prevent a scandal, the queen called servants immediately ordering them to take her husband back to his quarters. As Scar happened to be there at the time, and due to his clerical state still sober, he carried his father to bed himself. It was only an hour later when the royal couple were informed about the incident- before that nobody would dare to disturb them.

Mufasa barged into the king's bedroom with his military jacket undone, fear in his eyes. Sarabi was right behind him in her wedding gown. Ahadi was barely conscious, the queen and his younger son at his side along with the council of royal physicians. But the doctors couldn't help much- there was nothing that could relieve their lord's suffering. Enraged, Mufasa sent them away and instead of returning to his guests, he decided to stay with his father.

And there he sat for more than a week, taking only short breaks to get some sleep and to at least take a few moments to spend with his young wife. But Ahadi wasn't getting any better. In a short time his thick black hair adopted the color of ash. He couldn't eat and soon all of his close ones had to face the horrible truth- that the king was dying. After so many years, death has finally found this man's weak spot and plunged its blade straight into it.

It was almost night and Mufasa came to replace his mother by the king's side. She was awaiting the inevitable with stupendous valor of spirit, especially after the archbishop performed the last rights, having tears in his eyes himself. She would have fallen asleep praying by her husband's bed, but for her own good her son sent her to her own chamber. The candles were lit and threw a dim light upon the old monarch's pale face- he was a shadow of himself. He couldn't speak for days, but when gazing into Mufasa's eyes he showed him that he finally overcame the agony and had something to say, the prince held his cold hand and his heart shook.

-'What is it, father?' – he gasped. – 'Is there anything you need? Please, tell me…'

But Ahadi shook his head and the young man silenced.

-'There is nothing more… you can do. My time has come.'

That was a horrible thing for Mufasa to hear- but he didn't express that as the king held him strongly.

-'At the end of my life, one thing I wish to tell you- I am glad I leave the kingdom in your hands. But… remember- our ancestors have built its glory upon a fragile unity. Look over there, on our crest- our battle cry is 'we are one'. Keep this… and you will be safe. Where there is a foe- you must defeat him. But in this household… peace must reign. Every kingdom divided against itself… is brought to desolation. Please, Mufasa- remember that! And one… more thing- whenever you feel alone… look at the stars. The great kings of the past look down on us from those stars. Soon… you will become king. And I must join those that have passed away. This is God's will. This is the circle of life…'

Ahadi silenced and for a second Mufasa fought that was the end. A tear went down his eye as he repeated his father's last words over and over in his mind. But then the king opened his bright green eyes again and whispered-

-'Please… Summon your brother.'

Immediately, the prince ran out of the bedroom and speeding down the castle corridors burst into Scar's chamber. His brother was awake, as if he was expecting him.

-'Father… wants to see you…' – Mufasa panted. – 'Hurry.'

Without a word, the cleric followed his sibling and went into the king's chamber alone, closing the door with the older prince waiting outside. He approached the bed slowly, his face still undisturbed with the slightest sign of emotion despite knowing that his father was dying. Ahadi looked at him breathing with relief that he managed to abide to speak to his younger son. Holding his hand just like Mufasa's hand before, with deep sorrow he said-

-'Taka… Forgive me. Please… I do not want to die knowing that you… hate me.'

The prince lowered his head and looked him straight in the eyes.

-'I am the one who should be asking you for forgiveness.'

Ahadi sighed. It was hard to say if he felt relieved. Finally, he added one more request-

-'Keep peace with your brother…'

Outside of the bedroom Mufasa was joined by queen Uru. Some strange feeling did not let her sleep tonight and now the mother and son stood embracing each other. She looked calm and the prince was almost ashamed that it was him who shook when he heard the sound of opening doors.

It was Scar. Alone. Passionless. Not even his own closest relatives were able to sense any emotion in him at that moment. But they knew it all as soon as he looked upon them, crossed himself and said-

-'The king is dead.'

-'Long live the king!' – Uru exclaimed in a truly horrifying scream of pain, collapsing into Mufasa's arms.

The brothers, stunned in shock, carried her to her bed. After they spent the rest of the night keeping watch by the king's body, at the break of dawn they went to wake her up. Only that she would not open her eyes.

The loyal queen and faithful wife could not live even an hour without her beloved husband. Mufasa was paralyzed, but when Scar noticed that she had indeed died, his reaction was simply shocking. His face twisted with horror, he started tearing strands of hair from his head and screaming. His brother tried to stop him, but it was impossible- before the younger prince ran out of the castle, his desperate howling informed the whole court that something deeply dreadful was happening.

For almost a month now he'd been carefully preparing for this day which was supposed to be for him a time of celebration. He'd been patiently putting Zira's poison in the hated king's food and drink not spotted by anyone, gently observing the proper dosage, growing more and more eager to finally see the day when his tormentor would finally be out of the way… But this he did not foresee. It was like a joke of fate, lite a punishment from God- that by murdering the father he'd loathed more than anyone else in the world, he'd also killed his mother- the one who raised him with utmost affection, whom he loved above all.

It was then that for the first time prince Scar felt true regret- not like what he'd staged after trying to humiliate his brother during the argument with the merchants. Now he felt so deeply and utterly sorry that he took a horse and galloped straight to the cathedral, where he fell on his face and swore-

-'By the name of God and all his angels- these hands of mine shall never put another to death as long as I live!'

* * *

**AN: Oops... Guess Scar had something else in mind. Since Ahadi and Uru do not appear in the movie when Mufasa is already king, it made me wonder- what happened to both of them? Maybe it was an 'accident' caused by their mischievous son? That would change a lot. So what's gonna happen now? Review, tell me what you think- you'll get the answer soon.**


	5. Ira

**Chapter 5 – Ira**

The burial ceremony was finished and everyone had gone home. The cathedral was finally silent and empty- just like he wished it to be. After hours of receiving condolences and pretending to be thankful for the care of the crowd of mourners, he wanted nothing else but to be left alone.

The man sat on a chair in the sacristy. He already had time to scream out his anger and sorrow that came from the horrible turn of events he could not have predicted. Now there was nothing more going on in his mind but hollow silence- no more emotions, no more desires. He'd been thinking about this for too long, imagining how things would look like afterwards. And since his plan had turned into an utter catastrophe, his mind was tired. This was why he didn't return to the castle- the place seemed repulsive to him now and he planned to spend the night in town somewhere. But before he would leave the church, he needed to rest.

Reluctantly, he raised his eyes to look at a crucifix hanging on the wall. Was this all just a cruel joke? Was he now experiencing an inevitable punishment for what he'd done? No. This he had to reject. He had a different idea of what justice was and if even God himself would stand in his way, then he would also have to reject God. It happened and it could not be undone- there was nothing more to it.

Suddenly, the man heard footsteps on the pavement of the cathedral. Considering it was probably someone who came to pray he ignored it. But then that someone started to open the door to the sacristy. In the evening semi-darkness it was hard to see who it was, but when the person came closer he turned out to be some young nobleman, dressed in black clothes. The man bowed his head shyly.

-'Ah, it's good that I found you here…' – he whispered to the man who was sitting in the chair and gazing at him carefully. – 'Father… excuse me for bothering you, but would you hear my confession?'

Scar was surprised that the nobleman did not recognize him. But then again, it was dark.

-'I am not a priest' – he answered dryly, wishing to get rid of the pest as fast as possible. – 'Come another time, man.'

-'Oh, please! Just hear me out. There is something I need to tell to you. You are a man of God, aren't you?' – the strange intruder gazed at the cleric's religious garments. He sounded very emotional- his hands were shaking and there was a strange spark in his eyes.

-'Who are you?' – Scar asked, raising and crossing his arms. If he had a good enough reason and if it wouldn't cause a scandal, he would wish to throw the man out of the church for disturbing him.

-'I am count Tevas, your reverence' – the man bowed again. – 'Please, I only wish to take a moment of your time.'

-'Fine. Speak, but be brief!' – uttered the cleric reluctantly. Although he thought to have heard his name before, he still wasn't sure who the man was.

Tevas cleared his throat and spoke, becoming more calm and serious.

-'I have an urgent fact to confess and a shocking one as well. I possess certain evidence that prove a hideous act that had taken place in the kingdom.'

Scar gazed at him with disgust and a rather insecure feeling.

-'But why do you bother me with that? There are other authorities that investigate criminals. And I am not a part of any of them!'

He was about to leave, but the nobleman held him back.

-'Just a moment, sir! I mentioned that I wish to make a confession. Sadly, I have to admit that despite knowing that something wrong was happening, I failed to take action. Thus I have sinned with negligence. Listen carefully to what I say, cleric- I seek a method to recompense for my former failure.'

Saying that, Tevas took something out of his pocket and held it up in front of the prince's eyes. At first, disoriented, he couldn't recognize it. But when he did, his eyes went wide- for the object that the man was holding was Zira's bottle that still had a few drops of poison contained within it.

-'What is that?' – Scar asked without a single note changed in his voice. But a strong shiver went down his spine, giving him the sensation of someone squeezing his heart. The nobleman's face twisted with anger.

-'Wretched scoundrel!' – Tevas screamed, suddenly pulling out his spade. – 'You know well what it is for I took it from your chamber! And I saw it in your hand earlier as you were using it, using it to poison the king. _Your father_! You cannot deny it. I will lead you to justice and from that neither your royal blood nor your priestly gown which you have tainted will save you. _Traitor_!'

The nobleman though himself to be very intimidating with his undeniable arguments and sharp blade. And he was. Internally, Scar was frightened. He felt the ground slipping from under his feet. But on the outside, he was as tough as the stone cathedral wall. In fact, he even started to laugh.

-'_Hehehe_… Dear count Tevas… you know not against who you stand!'

And, continuing to laugh, he stood gazing at the bewildered nobleman. Feeling taunted, seriously maddened by seeing such cynicism in a king's son and a clergyman, Tevas wanted to protest. He wanted to lead Scar straight to the king and make him confess his ugly crime. But he never had the chance. The prince suddenly moved and ran away to stand by the wall, but it was too dark to actually see what was going on. The fact was that after this sudden motion, Tevas dropped his spade and grabbed his throat. A short dagger was stuck in it to the hilt, making him emit a chocking sound.

Scar stopped laughing. Now, totally terrified, he observed as the shocked count fell in front of him, first to his knees, then on his face. After a few more moments he stopped moving. The prince felt as his hands shook uncontrollably. His heart pounded and he almost couldn't breathe. He did not think this old knife-throwing technique he'd learned in his adolescence would work so effectively, but it did. As soon as he was able to do it, he kicked the man who was lying on the ground and made him turn to his back. Tevas was dead, there was no doubt about that.

-'Curse you, fool!' – he scolded him gazing in his blank eyes, noticing that he'd just broken the vow he'd made… - 'Curse this unfair world!'

Shacking all over he ran out of the sacristy to the nave of the church. The lights were off, there was no one there. Returning to the body, he grabbed the poison flask and tore it out of the count's dead fingers.

-'Thou shall not steal!' – he shouted, quickly leaving the cathedral afterwards.

He felt as if hell itself was on his tail. Now he could be sure- the only thing he could do was to vanish in the darkness of the night.

* * *

**AN- Oh no! The situation got even worse! Who was that 'count Tevas' guy, anyway? And can Scar get away with his crimes?**

**I await you reviews.**


	6. Spelunca

**Chapter 5 – Spelunca**

A dirty, unshaven man woke up and groaned, displeased. He had been lying on the table with his face in a greasy plate and now not only was his sight blurry and covered with a tipsy mist, but the sticky substance was dripping on his greyish shirt making it even filthier. He cleared his throat loudly, spat on the ground and rubbed his eyes. Finally he was able to see the mess that surrounded him- but since he was used to such sights, he didn't really bother that the whole room was filled with junk and that one of his comrades was lying on a nearby table, snoring. Instead, the man stretched and yawned.

_Darn, that musta been a good night_… - he thought. – _Shame I can't remember anything. I wonder where's Shenzi at?_

Suddenly, as if she could hear his thoughts, a viciously-looking woman with tangled black hair opened the door loudly with a kick, walking into the room. The man grinned at her, baring his decaying teeth.

-'Well good mornin' to ya, Shenz! What you got over there in that jar?'

The woman glared at him with not much sympathy.

-'It's three in the afternoon, Banzai. 'Bout time for ya to move your butt, don'cha think?' – she put the clay jug she was holding on the table.

-'Ooh, I see you brought breakfast!' – said Banzai, but then whimpered when his hand was smacked trying to reach for the big vessel of ale.

-'Not so fast, pig-face! Use a mug. I didn't bring that just for you alone to drink!'

-'Ay! Who you callin' pig-face?'

He said that with an angry voice, but seeing that his companion was clearly not in the mood, he just lifted up a wooden cup from the floor, pouring himself a morning hair-of-the-dog.

-'So what's in the agenda fer today?' – Banazai inquired sitting more comfortably, feeling a little better after taking his favorite medicine.

-'Well, first we gotta get Ed back on his legs…' – Shenzi pointed on the stout, stupid-looking fellow that still laid on the table with a half-smile and a stream of saliva going down his mouth. – 'And then… I dunno, lemme think. I spent most o' our leftover cash fer the ale… You seen the boss anywhere?'

Both of them started looking around their heavily cluttered den.

-'Nah, he probably went back home' – said the man with sadness, knowing that now they would have to think of some way to actually feed themselves today. – 'I can feel my stomach rumblin' like a ragin' river…'

-'Yeah, same here' – answered the woman putting her elbows on the table. – 'But… Hey! Wait a minute!'

-'What's up?' – Banzai gazed at her, surprised by her sudden merriment. Shenzi moved up and grabbed the edges of his ragged leather vest.

-'Now I remember! Banzai, we gotta get ourselves together! The _celebrations_ start this evenin'!'

The stupefied man made a totally dumb face.

-'_Uhh_… what kinda celebrations? I ain't heard o' no…'

-'You drunken ass! The boss' been tellin' us 'bout that fer days now! Tomorrow's the coronation and the folks in town are startin' to celebrate tonight to prepare!'

For a few seconds Banzai didn't say anything. It looked as if he was thinking. But that was just a false impression.

-'_Uhh_… coronation?' – he asked uncertainly. Shenzi put her hand to her face.

-'Who do I have ta work with… Yes, Banzai- as in, the CORONATION of the KING? Like, the biggest party this town has seen in years?'

-'_Err_… but the king kicked the bucket, didn't he?'

-'Idiot! I'm talkin' 'bout the_ new_ king!'

-'New king? Where'll they get a new king from?'

-'Banzai, are you really that stupid or do you just look that way? The king had a SON, remember?'

-'A son…? Yeah, I remember! It's our BOSS- he's the king's son! So you sayin' that _he's_ gonna be the new king?!'

The woman sighed hopelessly. Then, seeing that nothing else is going to work, she grabbed her comrade by the front of his greasy shirt and almost screaming to his face she said-

-'Listen up, Banzai- the boss has been sayin' this all night long until he passed out but it seems you yourself were too busy drinkin' to remember- HE AIN'T GONNA BE KING. HIS BROTHER MUFASA IS GONNA BE KING. TOMORROW. CORONATION. BIG PARTY. Get it?'

The man nodded quickly and she let him go. The person sleeping on the table seemingly woke up or at least heard them through a half-slumber as he started laughing so uncontrollably that he fell down to the floor with a soundly thud.

-'Darn it, woman! Why you havta be so violent? I hear ya already…' – Banzai buttoned his shirt wherever the buttons weren't torn off, but seeing Shenzi's face made his choose to change the topic. – 'So we're goin' to a party tonight, ain't we? You predict any special attractions?'

-'_Special attractions_? Man, there's gonna be a whole festival out there! Performers, minstrels, you name it. There's gonna be a freak show, maybe even a hanging…' – the woman calculated.

-'A freak show? Who're they gonna be showing, Ed?' – Banzai laughed. But only for a second, as he was then his in the head by a shoe thrown by the only seemingly unconscious madman. Another wave of laughter came from behind the table.

-'Well, I dunno who'll they be showing…' – Shenzi continued, undisturbed. – '… but I heard the new king's planning to make a special gift to his subjects tomorrow. There's gonna be free food and drinks, folks say.'

That announcement caught both of the men's attention. Ed lifted up his miniature head with a hungry glow in his squint childish eyes and smiled, drooling. Banzai looked no less eager.

-'_Free food_?' – he repeated the words like an incantation. Shenzi confirmed with a happy _m-hm_. – 'Gosh, I'm beginnin' to like that new king already!'

-'Sure thing! But listen up, you guys- before the festival starts, I ain't lettin' you outa here before ya clean up this stinkin' sty…'

She didn't even finish the sentence when suddenly a strange noise came from the corner of the room. To the three companions' surprise it was… a loud sneeze. It came from under a dirty old blanket that seemed to have something, or someone, underneath.

-'Go check what that was' – Shenzi ordered to Banzai, silencing cautiously. The man, looking as dangerous as he could, picked up a knife and snuck up to the place from where the strange sound came from. With a rapid move, he took off the blanket and saw…

-'BOSS!' – gasped the gang with astonishment.

In the corner, on the only comfortable chair in the whole room, there sat a cleric with long, black hair and beard, wearing a crumpled cassock and wielding a bottle of hooch in his hand. When the light fell on his scarred face he groaned, and then opened his blood-shot eyes a bit.

-'_Mmm_… o di immortales! My poor skull…'

-'Boss! Are ya okay?' – Shenzi, Banzai and Ed surrounded their patron with concern. He looked at them with surprise and contempt.

-'Oh, now I know why everything stinks so much… For heaven's sake, what is the time?' – said the prince, massaging his temples.

-'Bout half-past three' – said the woman leader of the band.

-'_What_? It's still that early? Why in the name of all the devils did you imbeciles wake me up in the middle of the night?'

Noticing that their boss wasn't exactly sober yet, Shenzi and Banzai gazed at each other.

-'Uh… It's actually half-past three in the afternoon, Scar' – said the chieftain.

-'Yeah' – nodded the one of the male thugs that could speak. – 'An' that means it's high time fer breakfast…'

Ed smiled stupidly and also waved his head at the mention of food, but it seemed that the prince finally recognized how late it already was. And that made him open his eyes wide.

-'Vae mihi!' – he screamed in Latin, raising suddenly and knocking all three of his drinking-mates to the ground. – 'The _coronation_! I must return to the castle! Curse you dogs, why didn't you tell me earlier!'

He ran out of the room and out of the house, almost tripping on his gown, growling like a demon. Before they were able to get up from the ground, the gang of scoundrels could hear hoofbeats outside of the window.

-'Ah, and I thought that he'd at least buy us breakfast!' – Banzai groaned. Somehow, his comment made Ed laugh so hard that he was barely able to stand. – 'And what's wrong with him?'

-'I dunno' – Shenzi responded, handing him a broom. – 'Now get to work! Maybe it'll make ya forget about yer belly for a while.'

* * *

**AN: Heh-heh, this is my more human version of the Elephant Graveyard as well as its inhabitants XD**


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